Hallowed
by evilpinkpen
Summary: Four vampires, a witch, and Jim Kirk walk into a bar. Slash AU


A/N: evi is celebrating autumn and unemployment with a new attempt at multichapter fic. It's a slash AU with lots of snarky banter and darkish implications. This should only surprise you if we've never met. Yes, I'm typecasting myself... If we have met, then warm fuzzies! I missed y'all while I was off pretending I had more important things to do. Silly evi.

Addendum 10/7/11: Story officially redesignated a one-shot, because my muse has no stamina. Next time I claim that a story will have more than one chapter, please call me a liar. It's for my own good, I promise.

**Hallowed**

There were some mysteries in this world that even the wealth of his twenty-two years of experience couldn't resolve, Jim Kirk noted as he sidled through the Friday night crowd. For one thing, he'd never figured out why the dive just outside the Riverside city limits was called the Shipyard Bar. Made no sense – what shipyard?

To wander into more metaphysical territory, he also couldn't begin to guess how hometown trash like him had gotten lucky enough to insinuate himself between the two sexy out-of-towners at the bar, despite the weekend crush. Good karma, maybe? Though he figured that Uncle Frank, Sheriff Davis, Pastor Kingsley, and… hell, everyone else in town, would probably reject that theory. Enthusiastically.

No, safe to say he didn't get it. The devil's own luck, he supposed. Not that he was complaining. He grinned as Lew the bartender gave him a Bud and a wary nod, then settled in for a detailed analysis of his options. On the right, he had exotically beautiful, with endless legs and perky breasts. Left, it was tall, dark, and handsome, all broad shoulders and scruffy appeal. Nothing to do for it but flip a coin and test his odds, he decided.

He caught Lew's eye and inclined his head to the left, patiently waiting until the bartender had handed the scruffy man a fresh brew and pointed him toward his benefactor – namely, Jim. But as the man tipped his bowed head up to meet Jim's gaze, Jim's practiced smile nearly faltered and his heart skipped a beat.

They were incredible eyes, no question. Fathomless as any ocean, assuming said ocean had been set aflame and then banked to a slow burn.

Jim couldn't say that he was trawling for deep and dangerous, so he ignored the seductive frisson that had crept across his nerve endings and simply lifted his beer bottle in salute. "Here's to you, buddy. You look like you could use it."

That smoldering stare held his for another breathless moment before returning to its morose contemplation of the bar. "Shove it, kid. I got nothing left to bless but my bones."

His voice was low and husky with a growling edge, and Jim blinked, torn between relief and irritation at the dismissal. "Right. Oookay, then." Giving himself a mental shake and a medicinal shot of Jack, he dredged up another winning smile and shifted his attention to the right, signaling Lew for two more shots.

While "Bones" had been withdrawn, the beautiful woman on Jim's other side was alert, even watchful, scanning the crowd with deceptively cool intent. Looking for company, he hoped.

"Evening," he began, sliding one of the shots toward the dark beauty. "I'm Jim." When this opening volley merely earned him a sidelong glance of positively feline disdain, he prodded, "And you are…?"

She rolled her eyes, pushing the shot back to him. "Unimpressed. Or uninterested. Take your pick." Her voice was low as well, with a purring quality that somehow had nothing of seduction in it, and her eyes had resumed their restless circuit even before she finished speaking.

Jim settled back against the bar with a silent huff, his nerves tingling with anticipation despite the singular lack of encouragement. Had to be the eyes, he decided. Or the voices. Yeah, those two would be fueling his fantasies for a while, probably starting tonight. He grimaced. Apparently, karma had gotten back on track and his luck had run.

He resolved to shake it off and ante up his game for another round, but the tingling sharpened until goosebumps lifted on his arms and neck, anticipation shading into unease. By the time four figures lumbered into his peripheral vision and adrenaline flooded him with crystalline clarity, he was already primed, his weight shifting to a fight-ready center of balance without conscious thought. "Vampires," he hissed, making a vicious curse of the word, hoping belatedly that no one had heard it.

But no, luck had well and truly left the building. Bones and Beautiful both heard him, and both had gone stiff with shock in response. And yet, as the four creatures came relentlessly closer, Jim had the strangest impression that it wasn't the "oh god, I'm standing next to a crazy man" brand of shock, but more like a "shit no, please tell me this isn't happening _now_" kind.

The vampires drifted to a stop in front of Beautiful and their burly front man offered her a suggestive, carefully close-lipped smile, apparently oblivious to Jim's piano-wire tension and Bones' equally taut shoulders.

"Hey, sweetheart," the burly vamp said, pushing himself into Beautiful's personal space and crowding her back against Jim. "You look a little lonely. Maybe you want some company?" Jim had barely opened his mouth – to say what? He had no idea, he only knew that it would probably lead to lots of bloodshed with lots of witnesses – when Beautiful pinched him. Hard.

"Maybe," she purred, with all the flirtation that had been absent moments before. "Maybe we could go somewhere more… private, and talk about it?" She slid a fingernail down the vampire's arm, playfulness barely disguising the threat behind the motion.

The vampires didn't seem to notice. Grinning as wide as he dared, clueless leader offered her his arm and led her through the crowd as his cronies cleared a path. Jim indulged in exactly four seconds of indecision before cursing and scrambling after them.

It was almost a second too many. The vamps moved fast, and Jim had to stop just outside the alley door to wrench the splintered leg off a trashed bar stool, silently praying that it would be sharp enough for his purpose. Despite his caution, the stool scraped the side of the dumpster as he worked. The sound was barely audible to him, but the vampires froze like startled deer, nostrils flaring as the red haze of bloodlust crept into their eyes. As a unit, they turned to stare at him, false humanity bleeding away as he watched.

He stepped out from the dumpster's shadow and bared his teeth in a mockery of a smile. It was bad odds, very bad odds, even if – and he was literally betting his life on it – Beautiful knew exactly what she was doing. Still, he twitched his makeshift stake in a come-hither gesture. "Poor manners, guys. After all, I called her first."

The look of pure outrage on the woman's face was really just a bonus as two of the vampires lurched toward him, snarling around unsheathed fangs. Practically within the circle of the burly leader's arms, she loosed her own furious snarl and drew a dagger from her thigh-high boot.

A dagger. A perfectly ordinary, _metal_ dagger. Jim felt his heart sink, only to immediately skip a beat as she slipped the dagger between the equally shocked vampire's ribs and it exploded into ashes.

Jim didn't have time to question the miracle; the faster of his two attackers was almost on him. It was unrecognizable now, its face distorted into a mask of demonic hunger, its movements purely predatory. He pivoted smoothly, quicker than the vampire expected, and let the vampire's own momentum drive it onto the stake. He put his whole body into the thrust from the other side, ensuring that the relatively dull weapon slammed home into the monster's heart.

The second vampire crashed into him as the first disintegrated, knocking the stake from his grip. He heard it clatter to the ground as he grappled in freefall with the vamp, trying to twist so that the now all-but-mindless monster would bear the brunt of the fall. He grunted as his hip clipped the pavement, felt something tear at the skin of his left arm as the vampire forced him down.

The scent of fresh blood maddened it still further, heightening its mindless strength until Jim found himself with one hand planted across the bridge of the vampire's nose and one against its windpipe, holding the gnashing fangs bare centimeters away from his own throat with nothing but desperate force and a whispered prayer. He jammed his thumb into the monster's eye, felt it rupture in a spray of blood and fluids, but the vampire was too far gone in its bloodlust to even flinch. Panic began to creep around the edges of his mind.

"Jim! Close your eyes!" He obeyed the sharp order automatically, shoving at the vampire with everything he had. "_Adustio_!" Searing light flashed across his lidded eyes, there and gone, as the vampire flung itself away from him, shrieking. The stench of burned flesh accosted his nose.

He rolled to his knees, scrabbling half-blind until his fingers brushed the stake, then threw himself at the wailing creature. Gripping the stake in both hands, he brought it down with every drop of strength that muscle and adrenaline could muster. His knees hit the ground with bruising force as the vampire disintegrated beneath him, and all he could do for several moments was kneel there, panting.

He had managed to rise halfway and was testing his throbbing hip when the angry clack of heels on pavement brought his head up, just in time to brace himself for impact as the livid Huntress shoved him back onto his ass.

"What were you thinking?" she demanded, then proceeded to unleash a torrent of verbal abuse on him. He didn't recognize the language of most of it, but the tone required no translation. Even through the lassitude of post-adrenaline exhaustion, he felt his temper catch and burn, and he let the tirade wash over him for a solid minute while he groped for control and a civil response.

"I was _thinking_," he finally interjected, his tone less even than he'd have liked, "that a beautiful, insanely overconfident woman was planning to take on four vampires by herself, and probably get killed in the process. Forgive me if I didn't exactly approve."

The explanation only succeeded in raising her hackles still further and sending that low voice up a threatening octave. "I wasn't asking your permission, He-Man. The situation was under control. I had a perfectly good plan – one that _you_ shot all to hell, thanks very much! _Kijinga_!" Jim was a heartbeat away from letting his temper win and giving that generous piece of her mind right back to the woman when a new voice interrupted, all sharp exasperation.

"Simmer down, Princess. In our defense, it didn't exactly _look_ like you were working with a plan here." He paused, then muttered, "Or a full deck, for that matter." The Huntress made an indignant sound but remarkably forbore to elaborate on her displeasure, and Jim realized, belatedly and somewhat fuzzily, that the third player in their little drama was Bones from the bar – and that the soft light currently illuminating the alley was emanating from the man's hand.

"So, are you a good witch or a bad witch?" Jim mused, as the fuzziness began to encroach worryingly on the edges of his vision. Bones snorted and knelt beside him, cupping Jim's face with his non-glowing hand and a gentleness that belied his sharp tone.

"I'm a pissed off witch. How many bones did you break, numbnuts? Look up." The light brightened, not painfully, but enough that Jim could see the color of the man's eyes clearly for the first time – hazel, rich and earthy. The electrostatic tingle where his fingers rested against Jim's jaw suggested that he was checking for damage with more than just that intent gaze.

"Wait a minute, I thought you were on my side," Jim objected, half-heartedly. "And nothing's broken, so screw you." Jim frowned at him as he was nudged into a semi-reclining position across the man's lap, gently but inexorably. "Bossy witch."

"I'm on the side of cleaning this up and then forgetting about it as soon as humanly possible. Cooperate or else." The witch frowned right back at him as he worked. "You're a little shocky. Guess that fight was a strain even for a Hunter's strength and endurance, huh?"

Jim gave him a hard look. Well, as hard as he could manage when he was practically sitting in the man's lap and his eyes wouldn't focus. "What do _you_ know about Hunters?"

"What do _you_ know about witches?" was the mocking response. "Sit tight for a second." The witchlight faded, leaving only the yellowed illumination of the lone streetlamp to filter into the alley. The freed hand, warm and slightly calloused, slid deftly under Jim's shirt. He began to jerk away, but was held firmly in place. "I said sit tight." Jim fought to stay still as the hand settled over his heart, which promptly doubled its tempo in response. Bones' other hand now cradled his head, and Jim found himself suddenly, mercilessly aware of the man's scent in the darkness – cinnamon and fabric softener, and something clean and sharp.

"Um, hello? I'm still standing right here." The woman finally reinstated herself in the conversation, clearly torn between irritation and concern.

"Whose fault is that?" Bones shot back, then sighed. "Fine. Just what _was_ your brilliant strategy, oh Jewel Among Huntresses?" The sardonic doubt was thick enough to reach out and cuddle, and Jim grinned at the Huntress's obvious discomfort.

"It's not like that," she objected, the words still heated. "I… I had backup waiting."

Bones swept a slow and deliberate gaze over the alley. "No offense, Princess, but I think your backup's late."

Jim laughed, then gasped as he felt the magic seeping into his chest, a silken warmth that sent sparkly bubbles tingling through his veins and swept away the worst of the pain and exhaustion.

"Oh. Oh, wow." He took a deep, steadying breath. "Good witch. Definitely." Despite the deep shadows hiding most of his face, Jim was certain that a smile teased the corner of the man's mouth.

The sound of pounding footsteps approaching forced him to end his contemplation of that particularly sin-inspiring feature, and he quashed his sense of regret as Bones disentangled himself and hauled them both to their feet. They were barely steady when another woman burst into the alley and flung herself at the Huntress, nearly sobbing with breathlessness.

"Oh gods, Nyota, I'm so sorry, it's just, oh gods! There were four, there weren't supposed to be four, I had to tell, I had to, you were going to die!"

The Huntress – Nyota, apparently – returned her friend's embrace with equal fervor, smoothing a calming hand over the woman's disarrayed curls, but her voice was urgent. "I'm fine, Gaila, it's fine. Who did you tell?" The last was edged with an apprehension that suggested she already knew the answer, and didn't like it.

"That is an incredibly pointless question. I have a better one – precisely which part of the phrase 'supervised hunt' escapes your prodigious linguistic comprehension, Miss Uhura?" The new voice was deceptively mild, and all the more threatening for the fact that Jim hadn't heard, or even sensed, the nondescript man's approach. As he pivoted to face the newcomer squarely, something seized in his abused hip, arresting the motion, and only Bones' tightening grip on his shoulders saved him from a humiliating face-plant.

"Lord and Lady, Jim, take it easy!" the witch admonished. "Hate to break it to you, cowboy, but you're still plenty banged up."

Jim nodded his acknowledgement with gritted teeth. "Fine. Whatever. Wait, when did you even get my name?" Suspicion seemed like a perfectly reasonable response to Jim, given the company and circumstances, but Bones just rolled his eyes.

"What, like you were hitting on the Huntress quietly?" He paused for a thoughtful moment, mouth twisting sardonically, then murmured, "Still want a piece of that?"

Jim felt his eyes widen, then narrow sharply. "Hell. I'd almost forgotten about that." He turned to the visibly mortified woman and knew that his tone was now considerably less than friendly. "Completely under control, huh? You know, a simple 'thank you and goodbye' would have done the trick."

The older man watched the three of them, his gaze measuring but otherwise indecipherable. Cutting into the argument before it could reignite, he pointed sternly toward the street. "Wait in the van, ladies. We _will_ continue this discussion in a more appropriate venue." Both women nodded dejectedly, Nyota after the briefest of hesitations. At another gesture, two more figures peeled themselves away from the shadows to follow the women out of sight. Only when they'd rounded the corner did the man allow himself to sigh, dragging a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair.

"Thank you. I would have lost a valued student tonight, if not for you. Nyota's a little headstrong, but if she survives, she's going to be one of the best I've ever trained."

"I'll grant you the first part, and have to take your word for the rest. I can't say she made the best first impression," Jim observed, with as much neutrality as he could manage. The man grimaced, and Jim sensed true affection behind the concern.

"I'm sure. I'd like to offer you some kind of compensation for your trouble. My name is –"

"Chris Pike," Bones finished, his tone as flat as the Iowa countryside. The man paused, giving Bones a sharper inspection than before.

"Yes. I'm sorry, have we met?"

"After a fashion," was all Bones would say, still expressionless and practically thrumming with tension. Jim's various bruises and strains seemed to throb in sympathy, and he sighed and decided, against his usual policy, to play the injury card.

"This is all very interesting, gentlemen. Really. But I'm aching, I'm bleeding, and I'd like to sit down now. You can compensate me with a drink, if you're going to insist."

"Grab a first aid kit, too," Bones interjected, carrying most of Jim's weight as they limped toward the door. Jim noted that the witch was trembling like the proverbial leaf himself – adrenaline backlash, maybe – and he gripped the man's shoulder reassuringly.

The service hallway was well lit, and before they could reenter the bar proper, Pike extended a long arm to block their path, his eyes on Bones' face.

"Dr. Leonard McCoy," he said quietly. "Atlanta, last December. I remember."

Bones looked pointedly somewhere just behind Pike's left shoulder. "I'd like to think it was memorable, even for someone in your line of work."

Pike's expression was calculating behind the cautious sympathy. "You never mentioned that you were one of the Sons of Hecate."

"No one asked," was the flat response. Since Pike continued to analyze Bones' face, Jim turned his head to do the same. The witch was younger than he'd originally thought, Jim realized. Heavy stubble and impending gauntness had stolen most of the boyishness from the heart-shaped face, and there were premature lines around those haunted eyes, but Jim revised his estimate to under thirty. He wondered how Bones – McCoy – had looked when Pike first met him. Something in the older man's disapproving gaze told him that the comparison wasn't favorable.

"You look like hell, son," Pike finally announced, confirming Jim's suspicions. "You haven't been running all this time?"

Bones' voice, when he finally replied, was no longer flat. It was cold and carefully controlled. "I'm not your son. And I'm pretty sure I already told you what to do with your pity."

It was nearly October, Jim noted. Ten months was a long time to run, too long to endure the constant fear and tension and motion of life as prey. And yet, one more glance at Bones' face – the expression, against all probability, even more closed off than it had been – reminded Jim that it wasn't nearly long enough to outrun that kind of grief.

He knew Chris Pike as well; his name and reputation, anyway. He knew the man's line of work. And he knew what would bring that line of work to a young doctor's doorstep on a cold winter's night.

He knew exactly what it was like to lose loved ones to the monsters. But Bones wasn't into sympathy, and he could respect that. Time to move on.

Pike seemed to agree, because he just shook his head, shifting seamlessly to what appeared to be a completely random question. "So, just how much of your personal energy did you siphon into that healing spell?"

Bones' eyes widened almost comically. "How the hell did you…?" Then they narrowed again, his full lips also contracting into an annoyed line. "Lucky guess."

"Accurate guess," Pike corrected, giving them both gentle shoves. "Go sit down before the two of you fall down." He stalked off toward the bar, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like "idiot kids."

"Sure. Because the entire hold up wasn't his idea," Jim griped, while McCoy glared darkly into the middle distance. "Not that sitting down isn't a great idea right now." He poked the witch, hiding a grin when he actually twitched, startled. "Right, Bones?"

"Right. Sorry." They'd almost made it to an empty booth when the apologetic expression faded and Bones gave him a bemused glance. "Wait. What did you call me?"

Jim grinned innocently. "Oops. Did I say that out loud? Keep walking," he directed, and Bones obeyed, though not without another eye roll. As he deposited Jim on the bench seat and slid in beside him, already pressing wadded napkins against his bleeding arm, Jim noted with approval that he'd put them on the wall side, leaving Pike the door side seat.

"Will you be insulted if I mention that you're the only witch I've ever met with enough strategic awareness to escape a wet paper bag?"

"Yes," was the distracted response. "This needs to be cleaned out, but it's just a glorified scrape."

"Thanks, doc, but I knew that." He waited for irritated eyes to meet his, then continued, "So, about that healing spell." Irritation was immediately superseded by wariness. "Interesting. I take it that using your own energy was a no-no? How come?"

Bones fidgeted, refusing to meet his eyes again. "It's not…it's just sort of generally…well, not really approved of. Because it drains the caster so badly, and because it's, well. Considered unnecessarily, um, intimate. Sort of invasive." He visibly forced back the adorable embarrassment, gathering his ragged pride to glare at Jim. "You were shocking out, damn it. And I didn't exactly have anything else on me!"

Jim held out both hands in acquiescence, smiling in a way that he hoped was a little more than friendly. "Hey, I'm not complaining about a little invasive intimacy, necessary or otherwise. Actually, I seem to recall enjoying it." He let his smile widen suggestively. "A lot."

Bones' eyes went distant again at that comment, puzzled and oddly soft. "Yeah. You did seem to, at that." He drew his gaze back to Jim's slowly, all amused annoyance. "So this is what, Plan B? Your first choice shot you down, so you're going for the consolation prize?"

Jim tried for indignation and ended up laughing. "Excuse me, but I'll have you recall that you _were_ my first choice. Speaking of shut downs. What, it was so much fun the first time that you can't wait to do it again?"

Jim had no idea what rejoinder Bones' expression of particularly mischievous sarcasm would have preceded, because Pike chose that moment to return with the requested first aid kit and two mugs of heavily doctored coffee. Bones pounced on his with an expression of blissful gratitude, but Jim couldn't help but regard the pale concoction dubiously. Pike nudged the mug into his hand with amusement.

"Just drink it, Kirk. You both need the energy boost, badly."

Jim wrapped his hands slowly around the warm ceramic, schooling his expression into his own version of Bones' earlier poker face as his sympathy for the witch doubled. Pike was clearly a manipulative bastard.

"What, did you palm my wallet in the hall earlier? Checking ID now, Mr. Pike?"

The old Hunter shook his head. "Another guess that paid off. Your resemblance to your father is unmistakable."

Jim gave him a cool smile. "And completely superficial, I assure you."

Pike's return smile could only be described as lupine. "That might almost be believable, if I wasn't aware of the fact that you just took out a vampire with nothing but your inborn gifts."

"And a broken chair leg," Bones added, off-handedly. "And he killed two vampires. Nyota got the other two."

Pike's calculating expression went briefly incredulous. "You fought and executed two vampires at once, with no training and a dull stake?"

Jim turned to glare at the witch. "Stop helping, Bones. And I seem to recall getting a little assistance with the second one."

Pike actually leaned forward like a kid at storytime, eyes alight with eager curiosity. "Tell me what happened."

Jim shrugged, struggling to hang on to his annoyance in the face of rising bemusement. "I don't know, I was a little distracted. He said a magic word or whatever, and there was this flash of light that burned the vampire. He bought me the time I needed to finish it."

They both turned curious eyes to the witch, who muttered, "Lord and Lady," but pulled a thin silver chain out from under his shirt. It carried a small pentacle with a pale orange gem at the center. "Sunstone amulet," he explained, letting Jim reach over to tap the smooth stone, which obligingly sparkled with coppery glints as the light shifted.

"So you, what? Conjured sunlight with this?" Jim asked, and got a vaguely affirmative shrug in response. "Wicked."

Pike cleared his throat. "Isn't it, ah, _unusual_ for such a small stone to be able to charge a spell that can take out a vampire?" Jim's impression was that by _unusual_ Pike really meant _absolutely impossible, and __what the fuck_? When this inquiry was also met with a shrug, Pike looked from one of them back to the other and shook his head. "I'll be right back."

Bones tucked his amulet away and opened the first aid kit, disinfecting and bandaging in silence until the older man returned with fresh coffee and two slices of apple pie. Jim gave Pike a disbelieving look.

"I thought you were a Hunter, not a witch. How the hell did you conjure pie in the Shipyard Bar?"

"I'm a resourceful and persuasive man, Jim." It sounded like the warning it was, but he waited until his offerings had been mostly demolished before he asked, far too casually, "What do you know about The Academy?"

Bones just shook his head, while Jim shrugged with his own forced casualness. "It's the headquarters for the Hunters you lead. You train Hunters and witches to work together against the vampires. I'll admit, I didn't really understand what the witches could possibly contribute to the cause." Bones made a face at him, and Jim grinned back, unrepentant. "But I think I have a better idea, after tonight."

Pike nodded. "Healing, auxiliary attacks, distraction techniques. The Children of Hecate have become invaluable partners to our Hunters." He leaned back, steepling his fingers under his chin. "They've also developed a way to charm weaponry so that it will kill vampires, whether or not the weapon is made of wood."

"Which would explain how the lovely and terrible Nyota was dusting vamps with cold steel. I wondered." Intrigued despite himself, he turned to the equally fascinated witch. "Could you do that?"

Bones nodded slowly. "I think… yes. I mean, I've never tried, but I see how it would theoretically be possible."

"We could show you," Pike offered mildly. "Both of you. You already have all the skills you'd need to excel – "

"Whoa, time out. Did this just turn into a recruitment pitch?" Jim asked incredulously. "Because you can save your breath, Pike. The career that put my parents in early, unmarked graves is not part of my long-term investment plan. I'm not interested." He glanced at Bones, and the witch's expression was again shuttered. "You interested?"

Bones' voice was harsh and full of edges. "No. I'm finished with vampires for this lifetime."

"With all due respect, Dr. McCoy," Pike began, implacably, "the vampires don't seem to be finished with you."

Jim really thought for a moment that Bones was going to deck the old Hunter, and he was going to sit back and watch him do it. Maybe even cheer. But the witch collected the ragged edges of his temper just as he'd earlier salvaged his pride, pressing his clenched fists open against the scarred table and shoving himself to his feet.

"I'm done with you, too," he growled, turning away, and Jim grabbed the back of his jacket.

"Hold up, Bones. I'll come with."

"Wait. Just wait." Pike held up both hands in surrender, rising to his own feet. "It's clear that I've overstayed my welcome. Just let me point out three things, and I'll never trouble you again."

Jim scrubbed a hand over his face, his earlier exhaustion returning full force. "Fine. Point quickly." He turned to his motionless companion. "Bones?"

The witch gave a jerky nod. "Say your piece. Then go."

Pike crossed his arms, solemn but confident. "There are three things that the two of you are never going to convince me of. The first is that you don't want revenge." Jim started to open his mouth, and Pike cut him off. "The monsters have taken too much from you. They stole the people you cared for most in this world." He looked Jim in the eye, compassionate. "Deprived you of a carefree, loving childhood." His gaze turned to Bones, more sorrowful. "Of a beloved home and a bright future."

He shook his head. "You're stubborn, passionate young men. You're never going to be able to forgive yourselves if you retire to some beach in resignation, knowing that the monsters are still out there, murdering, raping lives. Winning." Jim shook his head in mute denial, and noticed that Bones' hands had clenched into fists again.

"That leads us neatly to the second point. Part of you both – the passionate, angry, vengeful part that you're so busy pretending doesn't exist – enjoyed the carnage tonight. You enjoyed fighting vampires together, helping each other, pushing each other. That kind of chemistry in a partnership can't be faked or forced. It's a rare gift." Pike smiled viciously. "And you enjoyed watching the demons go up in smoke, knowing that you were the ones who'd sent them back to hell."

Jim swallowed hard as the Hunter paused. "Third point?"

"Third," Pike sighed. "Third, I sincerely doubt that either of you has had any better offers recently, or can expect them in the near future." When silence answered him, he gave a brisk nod. "There will be a ticket to San Francisco reserved in each of your names at the airport in Cedar Rapids. Starting tomorrow. If you decide you want them, they'll be waiting." True to his word, he turned to leave.

"Pike!" Jim called, the question that had tickled, then burned in the back of his mind ever since the fight bursting out despite his intentions to smother it. The old Hunter turned back, brows lifting in surprise. "The ones we killed tonight. There were too many of them for a little town like Riverside. They were new, too new to be running alone. Too vicious to stay hidden for long." He could tell by the man's grim expression that he recognized the familiar pattern, as well. "Who sired them?" he asked, softly.

"Jim…" Pike began, raking his hand through his hair in what appeared to be a nervous tic.

"Who's the master, Pike!"

The Hunter's expression hardened. "Nero."

Jim stared at him blankly for several moments, then laughed, too loudly, a desperate bid to hide his mounting despair. He felt Bones' hand on his shoulder, strangely reassuring, and dragged in a ragged breath.

"Yeah, I can see why you left that little detail out of your recruitment spiel. It would be counterproductive to put so much effort into trying to talk me into joining the family business, and then reveal that the old man died for nothing." His voice caught, embarrassingly. "That the master he died to destroy escaped, and he died for nothing."

"Your father killed sixty-two vampires and saved over a thousand lives that night. That's hardly 'nothing.' You think you could have done better?" Pike gave him a level stare before turning away again. "Prove it."

This time, they watched him go in silence. When the Hunter's lanky frame had vanished in the crowd, Bones dropped back onto the seat beside him, relinquishing what Jim only belatedly realized had been a protective posture.

"Okay, Jim?" he asked.

"Of course." Jim toyed with his spoon. "I mean, just because he's a manipulative bastard, that doesn't mean he got to me or anything."

"Sure."

"It was kind of ridiculous, wasn't it, the way he just assumed he knew everything about everyone. Arrogant tool."

"Mmhm."

"_Prove it_," Jim mocked. "Who the hell even says that? What are we, in middle school? Is he going to double dog dare me next?"

Bones sighed. "We're going to Frisco, aren't we?"

Jim's response was little more than Pike's name, liberally decorated with expletives.

Bones nodded glumly and knocked back the dregs of his coffee. "Yeah. That's what I figured."


End file.
